Wicked Abyss
Page 28

She nodded.
“Then the Magic Kingdom is a place of trickery,” he said, seeming keyed up at the idea.
“People know they’re getting tricked. They like it.” She tilted her head. “I’d call it more make-believe.”
“And this place was built for amusement?”
Unable to resist, she said, “Mortals also go there to worship a mouse god. His likeness is everywhere. There’s a duck demigod too. I could show you around.”
He gestured at himself. “Go into the mortal realm?”
With his horns, glyphs, and dark red skin? That wide mask of black around—
Her lips parted. His eyes had turned green. He’d grown calm enough for them to revert to their natural color.
A vivid, blazing green. Whoa.
Inner shake. “The mortals would, um, think you were in costume.”
“And then you could use your speed to flee among them.”
She should’ve concealed her super speed. All fey were fast, but the royals were the fastest. Some said that was how they’d gotten to be royal to begin with.
Since this was the calmest she’d ever seen Abyssian, she tried to reason with him: “Will you just trace me somewhere I can use a phone? If I miss any more days without calling in, I’m going to get shit-canned from my job.” She knew she could never work there again—her hiding place had been blown—but it’d be nice to give her supervisor a heads-up. Oh, and then to use her speed to flee the demon among the mortals.
He leaned against a wall, the sinews in his torso flexing. His wide shoulders tapered down to those narrow hips.
She might’ve expected the king of hell to have a bulky, no-neck build. Instead, his seven-foot-plus frame had been blessed with long, lean muscles and not a spare ounce of flesh anywhere.
He was oblivious to the fire vines on the wall. In fact, they peeled away from him, as if he was too hot.
Could she produce heat to tame them? Her immunity efforts were slow-going and painful.
“You work in a park devoted to make-believe and games,” he said, his gaze keen. “Did you go to school to learn your trade?”
No school necessary for her gig, but . . . “I went to college in the mortal realm.” Courtesy of her fake ID and Papa Disney. Without any kind of social life to distract her from studies, she’d completed her first degree with a triple major in under three years.
On graduation day, she’d started on her second degree. She collected them.
“You were a princess in a former life; I can’t see you with your nose in a book. I imagine you fixated on baubles and laces, dreaming about ball gowns.”
“I used to be like that.”
“What happened?”
She gazed past him. “It was time to stop being a silly girl.”
Her beautiful but unfeeling mother used to tell her, “No matter what trials you face, you must be as you’ve always been: a princess of the blood.”
In the mortal realm, Lila had realized that if she didn’t adjust, she’d be culled from that world before she reached her immortality.
Her mother had said, “You are the boulder in a stream, standing immovable against constant pressures.” But Lila had told herself, “I’m a tree in the woodlands. I can’t expect the sun to come find me; I’ll stretch to reach the light.” Determined to fit in, she’d dressed like mortals, talking and behaving like them.
The demon snapped, “Godsdamn it, what are you thinking about?”
“Huh? Nothing important.”
In Demonish, he muttered, “Maddening female.” She got the impression that he hated her but was helplessly intrigued by his mate.
When would he admit that she was his? She might have disbelieved it, but there were times . . . “I was just recalling a watershed moment in my life that shaped me as a person. But I’d never share it with someone I distrust so much.”
He glowered. “Why did you disguise your eyes?”
She shrugged. “I wish they matched.”
“They do when they turn.”
“My eyes don’t turn.”
“Bright teal. A lover never told you that?” His voice dropped lower. “Hasn’t your fiancé brought you to come?”
Her cheeks grew hot. She was used to blunt talk, but his interest was . . . dark. “Why would my orgasms be any of your business?” Because I’m your . . . starts with an M . . .
He didn’t take the bait. Standing fully, he investigated her food tray. “You truly can’t stomach these dishes?” When she shook her head, he strode outside, gazing back at her.
Expecting her to follow?
Picking a spot on the terrace where the railing had broken off, he sat with his long legs hanging off the edge.
She sidled closer.
“Sit, Calliope.” He waved beside him.
“So you can push me off?”
“I can do that anyway.”
True. She cautiously joined him, catching a hint of his scent. Fire, evergreen, and male.
There they sat, overlooking hell together. They hated each other, but apparently they’d called a temporary truce.
She wanted information from him; what was his reasoning?
As he gazed out at the rugged terrain, tension seemed to seep from him. His eyes even grew a touch heavy-lidded. He clearly loved it here.
She tried to see it from his point of view. Now that the ash had cleared, the sun shone brighter, and the landscape was alive with color. The black of the mountains only made the lava river more vivid. Gold and silver stripes ran down cliff faces. Did molten ore simply spill out?
She pointed to the largest volcano far in the distance. “What is the name of that one?”
“Mount Volar.”
“The name of the river?”
“The Styx.”
“When I was younger, I would read tales about this dimension. Are there really traps in the wilds of hell?” What will I face out there?
“Countless. Which should appeal to you.” He turned to look at her. “A net from spider silk was crafty. But the crowning touch was using phallic carvings for a weight.”
“You are the one who imprisoned me in this tower. Besides, if anyone should be brought down by faun erections, it’s you, King Abyssian. You deserved that and more.”
Green eyes lively, he asked, “Are you planning on more?”
“I’m just getting warmed up.”